The fee has hommed us round; we stand at bay. Here will we perish, or be free to-day!
To drum and bugle sternly sounding.
The Southern soldier's heart is bounding-- But stay — oh, stay!--Virginia is not here!
Hush your strains of martial cheer, O bugle, peace!
O war-drum, cease!
Virginia is not here!
Suspend, O Chief!
your word of fight!
She will be soon in sight!
Her children never called in vain!
She comes not — comes not: the disgrace Were bitterer than the tyrant's chain!
O death!
we dare thee face to face!

A gun!
the fee's defiant shot — be still!
Hurrah! an answering gun behind the hill, And o'er its summit wildly streaming The squadrons of Virginia gleaming!
Hurrah! hurrah! the Old Dominion comes!
Blow your bugles, beat your drums.
O doubt accurate!
The last is first.-- The Old Dominion comes!
She grasps her thunderbolts of war; Hurrah!
hurrah! hurrah! Now loose, O Chief!
your battle-storm; We hang impatient on your breath.
Here in the flashing front we form!
Virginians!--Victory or Death!

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